


you liked me because i was blue

by yvessaintharry



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Depression, Fluff, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Self Harm, Smut, blowjob, larry au, larry imagine, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-25 22:38:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1665095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yvessaintharry/pseuds/yvessaintharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"can you see colours, louis?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"no. can you?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"no." at least he can understand me on some level. "i'm just so worried about my future."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>he sits up on my bed, suddenly interested. "how so?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"i'm not exactly sure how to explain." i furrow my eyebrows, looking for the correct words to express my thoughts. "the world has always been black and white for me. they say colours come with age, but i'm already nineteen and the world is as dull as my mundane life. i dunno, maybe things just don't work out for me. i'll be okay, though."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"are you so sure about that?"</i>
</p><p> </p><p>or the one where everyone sees in black and white until they meet their soulmate, and louis and harry are no exception to that rule.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you liked me because i was blue

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so sorry about this??? and sorry about the little bit of gashton, i just needed to pair someone up with gemma. also, i like to make song references. don't judge me.
> 
> -erin xx

Black.

 

White.

 

My life has been lived in those two colours. My world revolves around them. Maybe sometimes there's a tint of grey here and there, but it's mainly black. And white.

I've always been envious of the people who can actually see colours. I've especially been envious of my mum since she started seeing them a few months ago. Now she sees all of them and tries to explain to me the different colours. She would hang different pictures on the fridge, but they were just grey spots with a word like 'pink' or 'orange' underneath them. It's always been pointless to me.

My older sister, Gemma, and I used to understand each other. We would both sit on the almost-black grass in the backyard and talk about how stupid the concept of colours was. Then she met a boy named Ashton while he was on vacation from Australia, and we no longer had our backyard conversations. So I just sat there by myself out there and blinked at the light grey sun while Gemma and Ashton were off exploring Holmes Chapel. 

Living in a world engrossed in different shades and tones of the same colour has always made me sad. I want to know what people are talking about when they say I have such lovely green eyes or when they comment on how pretty a sunset is. All I see is different undertones of grey as the white sun leaves and turns my world pitch black.

I don't know why I can't see colours, or why Gemma suddenly can, or why my best mate, Niall, is starting to. But all I do know is that it makes me more and more depressed as the days go by.

Gemma told me that London is an amazing city full of colours. So that's why I sit alone in the middle of a grey and white park, staring at Big Ben in the distance. So far, London is just more shades of grey and an expensive flat that's as dull as my life.

"What're ya doing here all by yourself?"

I look up at my Irish friend as he sits beside me. "How did you find me?" I question, picking at some grey grass.

"You always sit outside when you finish—you know," he trails off awkwardly, pointing to his wrists.

I pull down the sleeves of my oversized jumper. "How did you know about that?"

His grey eyes turn sad. "I didn't," he replies solemnly. "Until now." Silence ensues as I hang my head shamefully. "Harry, you have to stop. Why are ye doin' it, anyway?"

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Niall, my life is as dull as the black and white I see. Not only do I have no colour in my life, but no emotion. I feel numb. I just want to feel something so I know I'm alive." I look up at the white sky. "Yet my blood is grey."

He pats my shoulder. "It'll be okay, buddy. We're going to find someone for you. Someone almost as good as Juliet."

I grin knowingly when he mentions his girlfriend. "How many colours can you see now?"

He smiles brightly. "I discovered green last week. Juliet's eyes are green. So are yours. They're nice."

"It sounds nice." I see the slight frown on Niall's lips when my sleeve pushes up a bit, so I distract him. "Tell me about Juliet. She sounds lovely."

"Oh, she is. The first colour I discovered was the brown of her hair. Then the pink of her lips. She was wearing a purple skirt one day, so I saw that." He lets out a puff of breath. "It's so cold out here. Why don't you go back to your flat? Maybe I could make you some tea?"

I shake my head. "No, thank you. I just want to try and imagine what a world in colour looks like. At this rate, I'll never truly find out."

"Then I'll find a nice girl for you. Maybe that'll do it."

I shake my head. "I'm not really fond of girls, honestly."

"Then a nice boy. Don't worry, Harry, I'll find someone for you."

"That's very nice of you to do, but I'm just not really fond of people," I protest. "I appreciate the effort, though."

He looks at his ringing phone. "That's Juliet. I have to go to her place. Her dad passed away last week and she's having a tough time." He thinks for a second before grinning. "Her eyes are really bright and green when she cries."

"Well, give her my condolences for me. She's a nice girl."

"Will do. See ya around, mate."

I wave him off, fixating back to the white sky. I lay down on my back. Drowsiness racks my body as I try to find a comfortable position that lessens the stinging in my wrists. As I watch the black and white world around me full of smiles and people who can probably see the green in my eyes, I can't help but wonder. Wonder what it's like to touch and feel something.

A sigh escapes my lips. It could be so much worse, I know. There are people starving and living in poverty while I'm complaining about only seeing black and white. I should be more grateful.

I reach in my shoulder bag and feel around. I take multiple rubber bracelets and cloths out. The wristbands cover some of my fresh scars. I tie the cut off cloths over them as well. No one will ever know. Wouldn't want my mum or Gemma making a surprise visit and finding a surprise of their own.

My eyes flutter closed as I return to my laying position on the grass. Has it always been this soft? I find myself drifting off. A fifteen minute nap should suffice. Just fifteen minutes.

When I reopen my eyes, I panic. The sky is pitch black, just like the world around me. God dammit! I must have fallen asleep longer than expected. I have night blindness. Now I'll never be able to get home. Staying in an open park overnight is not safe at all. I have to at least make an attempt to get home. I've been here long enough to know the way home from this park, so it's worth a shot. 

I feel around for my bag and sling it over my shoulder. My feet guide me to the right. A faint grey light comes from Big Ben in the distance. That light plus the street lamps must help people that can actually see colours. But all I see is blackness and a slight grey. I cross my fingers as I walk, hoping to make it back to my flat safely.

When I reach the stone bridge, I know I'm on the right track. The sound of running water tells me that the river is underneath my feet. I trip on my foot and stumble into a hard figure. It's too warm to be a railing of the bridge, so it must be a person.

"Oops!" I mutter, embarrassed by my clumsy encounter.

"Hi," the other person says, the voice high-pitched and friendly.

Something catches my eye in the blackness. It must be the person's eyes. It's something I've never seen before. Instead of the grey of Niall's or my eyes, his are something I can't explain. They do have a grey colour in it that I see in the sky during storms, but the hue of the iris is something I've never seen before. Could it be? An actual colour?

"Are you there?" the boy teases, smiling and showing dazzling white teeth. It's a white I don't mind seeing.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry," I stammer anxiously, scratching the back of my neck. What is that colour? Green? I could look at it all day, and I would see why people say I have such lovely eyes if that is in fact green.

His hand brushes mine. "The name is Louis," he introduces brightly.

I take the hint and shake his hand. It feels nice in mine. "And 'm Harry. Nice to meet you."

"Where are you headed?"

"Home," I respond. I grip my shoulder bag as the pretty colour of his eyes stare at me intensely. "You?"

"Trying to find my way back to my flat, but I have night blindness. I spent too long at my girlfriend's and now I'm left in the dark. Can't drive when you have night blindness."

_My girlfriend's._

"I have night blindness, too. I've only been here for a few weeks, but I think I'm going the right way."

He shakes his head. "Huh. I've lived here for two years and I still have no idea where I'm going."

"So you don't know where to go?" I question, cocking my head to the side in curiosity.

"No."

I bite my lip. "Come with me, then. I think I know where I'm going."

He follows me as we pass over the bridge. "You're trusting a random stranger to stay the night at your flat?"

"I think I may be too trusting. But you don't seem like such a big threat to me." I halt in my place. "Unless you're secretly a black belt."

He looks down. "I am  _wearing_ a black belt, but I have no experience with karate. Eleanor gave it to me as a birthday present. She keeps my stylish."

"Eleanor?" I question.

"My girlfriend," he answers proudly. "I thought I told you her name was Eleanor?"

"No," I respond, annoyed and unenthusiastic. I have no intention of knowing anything about his girlfriend.

"Well, yeah. We've been dating for—oh goodness, I forgot when we started going out. But it's close to two years now. I think."

I scoff. "Sounds like a lucky lady. Her own boyfriend doesn't know how long they've been together."

He shrugs. "I lost track. We have a weird relationship." I bite the inside of my cheek. Whoever this Eleanor girl, she's a lucky one. "So, um, do you know where we are?"

"Want me to be honest?" He nods nervously. "I don't know where I'm going, but I'm finding my way."

"Well, I'm trusting you."

"And you say  _I'm_ too trusting," I tease.

He chuckles; a high-pitched thing that makes me smile. "Cheeky one, are we? Good to know."

"For what?"

"Future reference," he replies mischievously.

"So you're implying that we'll keep contact and see each other in the future?" I question, raising an eyebrow. "Look who's the cheeky one now."

"Well, Harry—what's your last name?"

"Styles."

"Well then, Harry  _Styles_ , consider yourself lucky. Louis Tomlinson does not associate with people and then keep in contact with them." _  
_

"Should I be flattered, Mr. Tomlinson?"

"Indeed, Mr. Styles. It's also a little gift for you allowing me to stay at yours for the night."

"A gift? Is that so?" I can see the stunning, and first, colour in his eyes. We both chuckle, filling the airy silence of this early autumn night. "Calling me cheeky when you should evaluate yourself sometime."

He smiles, sending a shiver up my spine. It could also have been the cold wind, but something in that smile is haunting. I look down at the black ground, shoving my hands in my pockets. The sensation causes me to wince. I guess I was having so much fun with Louis that I had forgotten about the cuts on my wrists. Someone like that is good for me. It's good to forget for a little while.

Then I remember—Eleanor. Lucky bastard she is. What I'd do and what I'd sacrifice just to have Louis hold my hand. His small digits seem like they would fit perfectly in my large ones. I'm tempted to brush his hand with my own, but keep them in my pockets. Because I'm Harry Styles, and Harry Styles does not steal people's boyfriends for his own selfish need and is one awkward twat, I decide that it's best not to try anything. He's already staying the night.

The bright street lamp lightens the grey just enough to see my building up ahead. Wow. I actually did it. I made it home. And now I've got Louis sleeping over, and that in itself is just brain-meltingly hot to me. Of course nothing will happen. Louis' got Eleanor and I've got my hand, so everything works out in the end. Right?

I stumble into my flat, switching on the light, and flooding the place in light grey and white. I let out a sigh of relief. Finally some light. I kick off my ratty boots next to the door and watch as Louis does the same with his fancy black brogues. In proper lighting, I get to finally see just how attractive Louis is. And— _fuck._ Eleanor does clean him up well. He notices my stare and sends me that mischievous smirk of his along with a playful wink.

"So," I cough awkwardly, walking over and sitting on the plush dark grey couch. "Tell me more about your lovely Eleanor."

"Eleanor?" he questions, a little surprised I'd ask such a thing right after I was practically undressing him with my eyes not a minute ago. "Yeah, she is great. She just turned twenty-one in July. She's studying politics and sociology at the University of Manchester, but she came here this weekend to visit me. She's off again tomorrow afternoon."

"Why didn't you just stay the night at hers? I mean, if she's going back to school I would assume that you'd have a bit of fun before she left again."

He shrugs. "I don't know. I guess I'm just not really into things like that. I mean, we'll be making out and stuff, yeah? Maybe then I'll get a semi, but I just think that having a wank is so much better than the actual thing with her. I don't think it's her fault because she feels kind of the same way. We both just aren't cliches who can do romance by the movies."

I knit my eyebrows together. This stuff must really have been on his mind for a while if he was so willing to spill it to someone he just met. Louis sits next to me. I shuffle a bit so my body is facing him and lean my head on my arm. Everything is grey and white except for those eyes. The whimsical sight makes me smile.

"So you've been dating this girl for—what, two years now?—and you haven't shagged her yet?"

"No, we have. It's just—I'm not sure about her, but it does nothing for me. I usually just have a wank in the bathroom afterwards and that helps me get through the night. I don't think it's Eleanor. I'm just not a romance movie."

"Movie or not, you should enjoy shagging your own girlfriend. Sex is just an enjoyable thing, in real life  _and_ in the movies."

"How would you know?"

"Well, I've had my fair share of sex."

He playfully slaps my arm repeatedly. "Harry Styles, you little manwhore!" I chuckle, shielding myself from his hits. "You must teach me your ways."

"Don't call me that!" I defend, deflecting his little hands.

"Oh, don't get all defensive on me now, Styles." I grin sheepishly at him. He deeply sighs, changing the mood between us. "Or maybe it is Eleanor. I just have no idea, and I wish I could have a way of finding out, you know?"

"I understand completely, Lou. I wish I could help you with that."

He shifts a little closer, his tweed blazer showing off his muscles. "Wait," he persists. "Let me just—try something."

My eyes flutter closed when Louis places his lips on my own. I stay like this for a second, frozen in utter shock. I lean forward, deepening the kiss. His little hand rests on top of my chest. It all feels so  _right_ , but I am kissing a complete stranger. This is madness. I pull away, sensing the disappointment in Louis' beautiful eyes. It almost makes me lean back in to kiss him again.

Almost.

"Nothing?" I question.

"No-nothing," he stutters hesitantly.

I stand from the couch. "Glad I could help. Goodnight, Louis."

He quickly turns around. "Are you off to bed, then?" he asks plaintively, like a small child.

"That's the point of me saying goodnight, yeah," I say and then realise how harsh the words are when they come out. I bite my lip. "Why? D-Do you need something? You are my guest."

"I just—sometimes I have really bad nightmares and I usually have Eleanor or my special pillow to sleep with and that calms me down. They find of fight the nightmares off, you know?"

"Are you asking to share my bed with me?" He slowly nods, nervous of my answer. My face breaks out in a grin. "Whatever's mine is yours for tonight. Come on. My bed is nice and comfy."

We walk into my bedroom. I switch on the lamp, partially illuminating the black room with light grey. I rummage through my drawer and hand him dark grey flannel pajama bottoms. He's got a black t-shirt on underneath his blazer, so he's covered there. I shimmy out of my black skinny jeans and slip on another pair of flannel pants. My body slithers in the covers, shutting off the lamp on the way.

I feel Louis climb in next to me, instantly warming up the bed. It's nice having someone to share the bed with instead of my blankets and stuffed animals from when I was a little boy. I feel Louis' little arm snake around my waist. I slowly turn over to face him, not being able to see a thing in the pitch blackness of my bedroom.

"Whatcha doing, Lou?" I wonder groggily.

"You're practically a freezer. Thought you could use some warming up, that's all."

"How sweet of you," I comment as I sink down, placing my head on his warm and toned chest. "Nothing?"

"Nothing," he assures.

"Right. G'night, Lou."

"Sweet dreams, Harry."

 

* * *

 

 

Heavy raindrops fall from the grey clouds outside my window. I sit on the ottoman, curled up with a wool blanked knitted by my grandmummy and a steaming cuppa, watching the rain gracefully coat London with all its beauty. The rain's always soothed me. There's a certain beauty in it I can't quite comprehend. All I know is that it distracts me from cutting myself for however long it lasts. A distraction is good. 

"What is a tall bastard like you sitting on that tiny ottoman?" a ghastly voice asks, breaking me away from my private serenity.

I quickly whip around, seeing Louis in the doorway of my bedroom. "How did you get in here?" I say, sitting up and sipping my tea.

"You left your front door unlocked. That's mighty dangerous for a pretty boy like yourself."

He plops on my bed, giving me the opportunity to study his appearance. He isn't dressed in his classy clothes that Eleanor's picked for him. He's dressed in grey sweatpants, a white t-shirt, and a grey beanie with a black ball hanging off the top. His fringe is hanging out of the beanie, showing a more adolescent and youthful side of him. It makes my stomach churn pleasantly and my heart beat just a little quicker. Must be the slight roar of thunder in the distance making me feel so anxious. Yeah, that's definitely it.

I glance around the room and to the outside world. It's all so tedious and wearisome. I have no job and will most likely be kicked out of this place soon if Gemma decides to stop sending me a bit of money each month, which I hate because she's young and planning a wedding so money is tight enough for her. Along with seeing in black and white, I am just some worthless nineteen-year-old who cuts himself over the most mundane things. To top it off, my personality is just as boring as it seems. That's why I've lost so many friends—I'm just a huge bore. I like to think that's why Niall and I have remained such good friends. He's exuberant and outgoing, while I'm closed-off and stodgy, so we even each other out pretty well.

"What are you thinking about?" Louis ponders out loud.

I chew on my lip. He'd be freaked out if I told him what's really on my mind. "Can you see colours, Louis?"

"No. Can you?"

"No." At least he can understand me on some level. "I'm just so worried about my future."

He sits up on my bed, suddenly interested. "How so?"

"I'm not exactly sure how to explain." I furrow my eyebrows, looking for the correct words to express my thoughts. "The world has always been black and white for me. They say colours come with age, but I'm already nineteen and the world is as dull as my mundane life. I dunno, maybe things just don't work out for me. I'll be okay, though."

"Are you so sure about that?"

"What do you mean?"

He crosses over to the ottoman and takes my forearms in his small hands. "I suppose you weren't expecting company, so you didn't bother to cover up," he examines, sighing heavily with sadness in his eyes that I learnt are the colour of blue. 

With his discovery of my fresh scars, I lower my mug on the white carpet and do my best to suppress the tears stinging my eyes and blurring my vision. I attempt to blink them away as my breathing heavies, but that just spills them down my cheeks. I rip Louis' grip from my arms to wipe them away. My problems are stupid. My depression is stupid. This is all so fucking stupid. I should just end it now and get it over with.

"Harry," Louis urges. "Harry, don't do that to me. Don't shut down into yourself, okay? I've seen it before, and it only leads to bad things. Things worse than cutting. Now come on, come on the bed."

He guides me to my bed. "Why are you helping me? Shouldn't you be off with Eleanor or something?" I spit harshly, pulling my knees up to my chest in an attempt to shield myself from his perfection.

"She's at school. And you need a friend. So come on, tell me what's wrong."

"It's just—I've never been the happiest lad around. It's just gotten worse as time passes. My older sister is getting married and then my parents divorced. My mum's already remarried. It just seems like everyone around me is happy with each other and living life in colour, while I'm left alone with an endless void of grey. It's stupid, I know-"

"It's not stupid at all. I feel that way sometimes, too," he confesses.

"You-you do?"

"'Course. Eleanor has started seeing colours now that she's got this new group of friends. I think now that she's found happiness with me and her new friends that she can finally start living life in colour. You just need to find your happiness. What makes you happy, Harry?"

_You._

"Music."

He shuffles a bit and pulls out an iPod. "You're lucky I carry this thing wherever I go. D'you like The Plain White T's? That old song "Hey There Delilah" goes pretty well with the rain. It's always been one of my favourites."

"Yeah, I like that song."

"Good, because I was going to play it anyway." He smirks again as he plays the music in my silent room. "I'm a bit worried, too."

"About what?"

"I'm visiting Eleanor in Manchester next weekend. She's been messaging me a lot, saying she misses me. She only says she misses me when she's really horny, and I'm just worried that sex with her will be bad again. I'm also shit at seducing."

My cheeks redden at the thought of a seductive Louis. "Seducing isn't as hard as it seems, Louis. Just takes some practice."

"I know that. That's part of the reason why I came over today."

I raise an eyebrow as Louis hangs his head in shame. "Hey," I say, lifting his chin. "What are friends for?"

Our lips connect, reminding me of the first time on my couch. I fancy the familiar feeling of Louis' tongue slipping in my mouth, him shuffling on top of me as I lay back while "Hey There Delilah" repeats a good six times. 

"Nothing?" I'd ask between kisses.

"Nothing," he would always reply.

We stay in that position, our tongues exploring each other's mouths, until night fell on London and we were immersed in darkness once again. When "Hey There Delilah" soon became our song and my tea was long cold. Then when my lips were swollen from all the heated kissing, I decided to finally pull away and get some sleep.

As we lay on my bed, Louis' fingers trace up and down my cuts gently, careful not to hurt me. He presses a kiss to my curls and soon drifts off to sleep. When his soft snores fill the room and I find myself drifting off in Louis' arm, I realise that Louis is just as much of a distraction as the rain—if not more. Distractions really are good. 

 

* * *

 

 

Me and Louis' practice soon became regular things. The feel of his lips and texture of his tongue have been memorised by now. The feel of his feathery hair in between my fingers is something I crave for at night when the bed is lonely and I can't sleep. When Louis is off with Eleanor giving her all that we've done together. It all makes me feel so used. It's been going on for three months now, and yet I hadn't realised how much he's been using me until now.

But that doesn't mean we haven't stopped seeing each other. I had to spend his twenty-second birthday back in Holmes Chapel while his family visited him in London. Throughout the night and during my family party for Christmas Eve, he kept texting me, saying that he missed me and wished I was with him on his special day. All those texts had almost made me drive all the way back to London, despite my night blindness, just to kiss the birthday boy.

Almost. 

And yet I'm aware that I'm being used, I still accept Louis' offer to spend New Year's with him instead of my family. So it's six hours until the new year and I've got the champagne on a bucket of ice with some snacks set up. I even made a nice steak for dinner with some homemade mashed potatoes. It's a meal Louis will devour in two seconds flat and ask for thirds. Then he'd love the dessert even more because it's a lemon sponge cake and I spent all of yesterday making it and all of today making sure it was properly refrigerated. 

It's now five hours until the new year and dinner is getting cold. Louis was supposed to be here a half hour ago. I rush in my bedroom to check my phone. No new messages or missed calls. I hope he didn't lose his way again. Night blindness is a damn inconvenience. I just hope that wherever he is, he's safe and doing his best to get here safely because I've spent so long to prepare this night for the both of us. 

Four hours until the new year and still no messages from Louis. I take a deep breath. It's Louis Tomlinson here. He's probably being fashionably late or something like that. He couldn't just be blowing me off like this. Some telly will help ease my mind. A nice screening of "Titanic" should kill some time until he gets here and get me in the romantic mood. Yeah, that'll be good.

Three hours until the new year and Jack is already at the first class dinner, telling everyone to live like there's no tomorrow. I anxiously bounce my knee. There's no way he can get here now. It's nine o'clock and completely dark outside. I wonder what could have happened to him. No messages. No missed calls. I walk to the kitchen and start dinner by myself, ignoring that it's disgustingly cold by now. Halfway through eating it, I give in to my temptation and text Louis.

_hey, where r u??? h xx_

It's two and a half hours until the new year when I finally get a response. I stop eating my piece of the lemon sponge cake and lunge for my cell phone, knocking over some utensils. All I'm thinking when I open the message is  _please let him be alright, please let him be alright._

_eleanor made an unexpected visit, that crazy bitch haha didnt i tell you??_

_no u didnt_

_oh sorry ! :( hope you havnt worried to bad about me but i gotta go so happy new year, harry xx_

It's one hour fifty minutes to the new year when I finish crying tears of disappointment and open up the full bottle of champagne. I sit in front of the telly as "Titanic" continues. I switch it off when it gets to the sex scene. Love is for the ignoramus. All people do is use you and then let you down. I was so stupid to believe that I could mean something to Louis. He's dated this girl for two years and I really thought that I could just waltz in and interfere with that? Stupid me. 

One hour and twenty minutes to the new year and the bottle of champagne is long gone. I've retreated to a bottle of whiskey in the cupboard and sit back on the couch, staring at a blank television screen. No rain tonight. No distraction from the pain and numbness of this provincial life. 

One hour until the new year and I find myself in the bathroom, slashing a razor blade against my wrists. I look at my reflection in the mirror, intoxicated and bashing the worthless skin of my wrists. When I have new scars over the old ones and just new ones in general, I finally feel satisfied. I don't bother to clean up and let my wrists bleed as I sit back on the couch and sip on my bottle of whiskey slowly.

Forty five minutes until the new year and my wrists are out in the open, still leaking grey blood. They air out and just bleed, my black sleeves rolled up to my elbows and showing all the evidence. If someone were to walk in right now, I'd be in deep trouble. But Niall's with Juliet, and Gemma's with Ashton, and my mum's with her new husband, and my dad is with his friends, and Louis is with Eleanor, and I'm all alone again.

Thirty minutes until the new year and I realise that I'm starting to get bad again. Not that I was exactly good in the first place, but Louis rejecting and using every part of me has got me in a place lower than I've been in a while. Just when I was starting to feel better, too. Nothing ever works out for me, so I guess I should have seen this coming. I should be used to the pain by now. 

Ten minutes until the new year when I realise how fucked up I am and that Louis could never love someone as insane as I am. That's why he loves Eleanor. Eleanor who is a student with tons of potential for a good life with a good boyfriend and good friends and a good family and just good. She has everything going her way while the world is closing in on me for the thousandth time in my pointless life.

One minute until the new year when my neighbour's yelling tells me exactly how long it is until 2014. My wrists have stopped bleeding, but stay out in the open to air out. The bottle of whiskey is tightly gripped in my hand as the seconds go by. Let's hope this year is so much better. But knowing me, nothing will change and it'll still be a year full of bitter disappointments and depression and grey. All black and white. 

"Happy New Year!" I hear being yelled throughout the building at the same time. 

I raise my bottle of whiskey. "Happy New Year, Louis," I say into the silence of my flat, tearfully, before taking a long swig on the bottle and passing out from all the alcohol. 

 

* * *

 

 

Louis had come knocking at my door a few days after the New Year's Eve situation. I just stayed sitting on my ottoman with my tea, watching the rain, and doing my best to drone out his obnoxious pounding. 

"Harry?" he called. "I know you're in there. Why are you ignoring me?"

I got up then and opened the door. "Because I'm not your little pet that you can use whenever you feel like it," I said harshly before slamming the door in his face.

He left then, and didn't come back.

 

* * *

 

 

I mindlessly watch the telly one evening, snuggled into my blanket and strumming an acoustic guitar. My wrists have suffered through endless cutting each day since I stopped talking to Louis. It's better for me, anyway. He's just using me to know what to do when he shags Eleanor. I don't need to do something stupid like fancy him or anything. Then I'd be in some deep shit. 

" _What happened to us?_ " I sing softly, my heart beating painfully. " _I heard that it's me we should blame. What happened to us? Why didn't you stop me from turning out this way?_ "

"Since when do you play guitar?"

"Louis, get out or I'll call the police," I threaten, refusing to make eye contact.

He grins. "Come on, you've been ignoring me for weeks now. I thought we were just getting to become good friends. Nice voice, though. Deep and raspy. I like it."

I look at those blue eyes. "Get out," I growl slowly. I stand, pushing on his back. "Go on now."

"Harry," he gasps. He grips my wrists, eyes wide and concerned. "What the hell have you been doing to yourself? Why do you keep doing this? I thought we had started to resolve it."

"You really want to know why I started cutting again?" I ask. He nods quickly. "You, you grimy bastard. Now get the  _fuck out of my flat_!"

I push him out the door. As soon as I sit back down on the couch, he softly knocks. I don't know what possesses me to, but I deeply sigh and go back to the door. What I said was mean, and because I'm Harry Styles, I cannot be mean to the most deserving person. Right when I open the door, Louis lunges at me to kiss me. With his hands cupping my cheeks and his lips so desperately on mine, it's hard to push him away. He pulls away slowly, hesitantly. 

"Nothing?" he questions.

I bite my lip, unable to hold back my feelings anymore. "Something," I confess.

He pushes me back into my flat, lips attached. I pin him against the front door, closing it. Our kisses consist of strangled moaning, hair pulling, teeth clashing, and hard touches that will leave little bruises later on. All the hidden passion towards each other is in it and comes out in a rather violent way.

"I didn't fuck her," Louis pants. "The thing that we have here, is strictly between us. She doesn't deserve any of the things we've been doing. She doesn't deserve me. So I dumped her."

That statement alone causes me to lead him to my bedroom. I'm pushed on to my bed with Louis on top of me as his lips attack my neck. I watch intently as he gently kisses each old scar and fresh cut on my wrists. His touches are tender, so unlike before. All of this new information—him dumping Eleanor because of me, not shagging her on New Year's when he left me all alone—has really got me thinking. I pray into the void of the sky up above that this is something real. I don't want this to ever end.

Louis' little hands scrabble across my torso, feeling the skin of my stomach underneath my shirt. I get the hint, throwing my shirt over my head to the side. Louis takes his off, revealing his muscles that look like they were chiseled by the gods. His face comes back down to mine, kissing me roughly. He straddles me, soon grinding his hips into mine. I release a low moan, feeling Louis' dick twitch through his tweed trousers at the sound. 

"Gonna make you feel so good," Louis whispers seductively into my ear. "Gonna make you forget all the pain you've felt."

"And you said you're not seductive," I tease breathlessly, trying to compose myself.

"Only for you, love."

With the friction Louis creates between us two, my sweatpants have rolled down a bit. Louis kisses slowly down my torso, covering every inch of skin at least once with his thin lips. He gently tugs down my sweatpants, just leaving me in my grey boxers. His little fingers teasingly trace the outline of my dick, causing a slight whimper to escape my lips. 

His lips kiss my rather pudgy hips and inside of my thighs before he grabs my cock. My eyes widen, a loud and surprised groan filling the room. That damn smirk is on his lips because he knows he's got me like a marionette on a string. And somehow, I don't mind him being in complete control of this situation. The way he strokes me and how he concentrates on making me feel good is just so hot and I feel as if I'll melt any second if he keeps going.

It's when those thin lips of his enclose around my swollen head that I allow myself to reach out and touch. I screw my eyes shut, one hand tangled in that beautiful feathery hair of his. Keeping my eyes closed is foolish. I want to watch him, to make sure this is all really happening. When I see the way his head bobs up and down, sending euphoria all throughout my body, I widen my eyes. His hair. It's no longer the dark grey it usually is. I don't know what that colour is, but I fancy it, like I fancy every bit of Louis.

My entire body shudders, overwhelmed with so many emotions. "Lou," I pant. "If you—gonna cum. God, just like that."

His mouth leaves my throbbing erection—and  _fuck_ , that's a loss that stings. He hovers over me, brushing the slightly sweaty curls out of my face. I can't help but notice how swollen his lips are now, and the trace of precum on them. He grins slightly as I marvel at the sight of him, all blowjob lips and mussed-up hair.

"Don't want you to cum just yet, love," he explains softly, voice a little hoarse and tired-sounding. "Wanna see how that bum feels. Got some lube and a condom?"

I reach under my pillow, handing him the two objects. "Made sure to stock up when you decided you wanted sex lessons," I reply cheekily.

Something sparks in those blue eyes of his. It's like he wants to wipe the cheeky grin right off my face. And that's exactly what he's going to do. He quickly takes off his tweed trousers and goes for the waistband of my underwear. I can't help but feel self conscious as he pulls them down, exposing all of me. My arm crosses over my stomach, my cheeks blushing. He softly touches my arm, careful not to touch my tender cuts.

"You're beautiful, Harry. Let me take care of you."

I deeply sigh as Louis lubes up one of his fingers. It's been a while since I had sex, and I was always the one giving, never receiving. That was before I accepted that I just didn't like girls. It's my first time with a guy, and I'm sure it is for Louis, too. But there's a first time for everything and I couldn't be more glad that it's with Louis.

Louis reaches down, softly rubbing over my entrance. He slowly pushes his finger in, causing me to gasp and hold onto both sides of his neck for support. My eyes involuntarily close at the foreign sensation. It isn't the most pleasant, but I remind myself that it's Louis on the other side of this and I've wanted this since the night I met him months ago.

He slowly enters a second finger, pumping in and out. I squirm uncomfortably, opening my eyes to readjust a little. I look up to see Louis' facial expression determined. He just wants me to feel good and he has to find my g-spot. As he re-enters me once again, heat spreads throughout my being along with complete arousal.

"Right there!" I exclaim, encouraging him. "Yeah—just like that, Lou."

"Fuck," he groans, hastily removing his fingers. I stare at him curiously as he tears the condom wrapper open with his teeth and abandoning his boxers. "Gotta fuck you right now. You'll be okay?"

"I can handle it. I trust you."

He stops short, grinning timidly as he rolls the condom onto his full-on erection. Knowing I made that happen makes me feel content inside. Also knowing that Eleanor could never do that to him and I could gives me a sense of pride.

"Gonna turn you over so you're on top. That okay with you?"

I nod, the words not being able to leave my mouth. He quickly flips us over so I'm straddling him. He looks up at me, almost amazed. I carefully align myself with his dick, slowly lowering myself. I gasp again, the feeling much more enjoyable now that he's opened me up.

My long limbs wrap around him, his arms wrapping around my middle with his hands on my back. My hands end up on his back, sure to claw at it in a bit and leave marks. He thrusts upward in a steady rhythm.

When he kisses me, I relax. That causes him to penetrate deeper, close to my prostate. I pant, moaning deep and breathy moans as my fingernails scrape across his back. He hisses slightly, slowing down a bit and I instantly crave more.

"Faster," I order breathlessly. "Harder."

He does as I command, causing his name to fall from my lips multiple times. With each moan of his name, he thrusts deeper and faster until I'm not so sure that I can hold on any more. I connect our lips again, tongues overlapping each other and teeth clashing. I'm so close and I know Louis is, too, by the way his thrusts become sloppier as he loses all kind of rhythm.

"Louis," I moan as I release onto our stomachs.

"I've got you," he whispers—and damn, he's right. "Harry," he groans not a minute later when he cums, warming me up. 

I lay on top of him, panting heavily as he carefully pulls out of me. He throws the used condom in the waste basket next to my hamper. I fall onto my bed, placing my head on his muscular chest. He traces soothing circles on my arms before gingerly stroking my cuts and scars. Suddenly, the urge to bash at my wrists until there's no more blood to bleed is gone and I feel infinity.

 

* * *

 

The year I've spent with Louis has been the best year of my life. It puts the other nineteen to shame. Since the pitch black autumn night, I can now see every single colour there is. The depression still lingers, but Louis helps fight off the urge with every tender kiss, every compliment whispered in my ear, every reminder that Louis is the sun and I am lucky enough to soak in its warm rays.

We've moved in together in his flat. I will admit that I was sad to leave my old flat, but now I'm with Louis every single day of my life. There were so many memories back in my old flat, but being in his now just means that we can make some more. I'm ready for the adventure. 

Louis got a job as the drama teacher at one of the high schools in this gigantic city. With his smooth talking skills, he convinced the principal to hire a new and rather anxious band teacher. The school year has started and though it is different to hear people just a few years younger than me calling me 'Mr. Styles', I like my new job. That means that Gemma no longer has to send me money to pay for rent. With all the money she got to keep for herself, she earned herself a nice honeymoon with Ashton in the Bahamas. It's just a matter of time before I'm Uncle Harry. Can't wait, to be honest.

I don't have a class the last hour of the day, so I get to leave early. Usually, I stay in the band room and go over different music to play in class and what to teach for the music theory classes. I stay in there until the end of the day and meet Louis in the parking lot so we can ride home together. But today I need to go straight home to check on Louis. Poor babe wasn't feeling well this morning so he stayed home and I know how lonely he gets when he's sick.

Driving home alone is no issue. I rid the thoughts that Louis lied about being sick and I will come home to an empty flat and a note saying how he doesn't love me anymore and has run off to get back together with Eleanor. No, I mustn't think like that. It's not true. Louis loves me. Eleanor's moved on with that nice boy, Max. Everything is okay. 

My thoughts still try to control me often times, but I can't let them anymore. Louis is too valuable to me and I cannot lose myself too much when he's by my side. But as soon as I park in the lot to our building, I rush up the stairs and unlock the door in a hurry. When I enter the flat, it's quiet and warm. I slowly walk to the kitchen table, seeing a note on it.

_Went to pick up some cough syrup and soup, didn't want to bother you at school with a text. Be back soon -Lou xx_

I sigh in relief, still a bit on edge that he's never coming back. But I know Louis and he wouldn't just ditch me like this. I need to stop over thinking things so much. Louis loves me and I love him and that's that. I slump in a chair, rubbing at my aching head. If only these thoughts would dissipate.

"Harry, mate, you really got to start locking the doors," Niall says, almost making me jump out of my skin. I look up at him, arm wrapped around the beautiful Juliet.

"What're you doing here?" I question, sitting up a bit.

"Thought you could use some company, that's all. Heard you've had a stressful week, starting off the new school year and all."

I grin. "Well, it hasn't exactly been easy, but I'm managing." I glance over at Juliet who's wearing a pink and white dress. "Hello, Juliet. How's your mum been doing?"

She deflates a bit, Niall immediately noticing. "She's managing," she sighs. "But she can't see colours anymore. She said she was beside my dad when he passed in the hospital and once his heart stopped, she started seeing in black and white again."

"That's peculiar. Why do you think that is?"

"I'm really not sure, and I'm doing my best to figure that out to cheer her up. She's been so sad. We all have, even if it was a year ago. But how are you, Harry? Better?"

"Oh, yes. So much better. Louis has really helped me through every urge and every hateful thought. I'm really lucky to have him in my life. I can see every colour now. How great is that?"

"That's wonderful," she beams. "Why don't we go hang out in the living room and watch some telly?"

I nod, following her and Niall to the living room. I stop short, noticing a totally healthy Louis standing. He's nervous, I can tell. Oh god, he's going to leave me and had Niall and Juliet come over to console me after he's gone. He's planned this all out. He'll do it formally and leave my friends to pick up all the pieces. I swallow a huge lump in my throat, frozen to my spot.

Niall and Juliet step behind Louis as he crosses over to me. I notice Niall's phone in his hand, recording this entire encounter. Great. So everyone can watch this humiliating breakup over and over to laugh at how pathetic I am. I'm so stupid to believe that this would last a while.

"Harry," Louis breathes out. "I love you." Oh, here it comes. _But I don't love you in that way anymore, so I'm leaving you and never looking back._ I watch, tears filling my eyes, as he slowly bends down on one knee. "Will you marry me?"

I bury my face in my hands, unable to give an answer straight away. Of course I want to marry Louis. I've known it for a while now. Goodness, I really need to stop jumping to conclusions without the proper data to back it up. He wants me to marry him. He wants me to be Mr. Harry Tomlinson. He wants to spend the rest of his life with me, and honestly, I couldn't ask for anything better.

"Yes," I answer, smiling like a fool.

Louis engulfs me in a bear hug, sliding the beautiful silver engagement ring on my ring finger. I marvel at it, completely stunned on how simply beautiful it is. Hell, it could be a fucking pebble and I'd still find it absolutely stunning because this means Louis and I will be together forever. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding back all my happy tears.

To think, this all started with an 'Oops!' and a 'Hi'.

 

* * *

 

The forecast has been calling for a gigantic snowstorm for the past week. It's the day of and I've decided to stock up at the grocery store. It's better late than never and Louis was never going to do it. It's the period between Christmas and New Year's. Louis is now twenty-three and he considers this time of year his resting period. He's "endured a very tiring birthday and holiday season" so I should give him a break from the chores.

But Louis can't say no to me for too long. I convinced him—with many kisses and a blowjob, that is—to go out and mail the wedding invitations. So he's off to the post office while I'm at the grocery store. 

The snow started last night and hasn't stopped since. There's already six inches on the ground and it's just growing stronger. As I'm checking the price for a box of chamomile tea, I notice how the snow has heavied outside. It's practically a blizzard out there now. I best hurry up and get back to the flat so Louis and I can cuddle for the rest of the night.

"How are you doing today, sir?" the cashier asks politely, scanning my items.

"Very well, how are you?"

She shrugs. "Just doing the best I can on a busy day like this. The store should be closing soon, it's getting real bad out there."

I glance back at the big window. "Yeah, it is."

She scans my items one by one. I watch her scan a can of soup, noticing the red of the picture is replaced with dark grey. I'm just stressing out over this storm, nothing to worry about. I wipe my eyes for a few seconds, ridding all the anxiety and sleepiness from them, and look back to see the can is still grey. Panicking, I look around the store to see it all.

Black.

White.

No, this can't be happening. Something's wrong. Something is wrong with Louis, I know it. I pull out my cell phone, immediately calling Louis' contact. It rings once, twice, thrice, and finally goes to voicemail after the sixth ring. I call again, going immediately to the voicemail this time. Something is definitely wrong. I have to go find him.

"Louis!" I exclaim, running out of the store with my groceries behind.

I run out into the heavy snow, scoping out the area to get to my car. I start the ignition and speed off in the direction of the post office. Everything is how it was over a year ago; black and white. This can't be happening. I can't go back into my cutting days before Louis was involved. I really can't.

When I'm almost to the post office, I notice different shades of grey flashing in the distance. Police sirens. Ambulances. Oh god, no. I hop out of the car, parking next to a stray police car. I watch as they finish zipping up a black body bag, wheeling the dead body into the back of an ambulance. I run to an officer.

"What's happened?" I ask, out of breath and scared out of my mind.

"There was a terrible accident involving the white out conditions and black ice," he explains, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It was a lone driver, but he's gone. He was far too young by the looks of it."

"Did you get his name?"

"Yeah, we got his driver's license from his wallet." He holds it up, his eyes scanning over the little card. "Louis Tomlinson. D'you know him?"

I sink down to the wet, cold ground and place my hands over my ears. No, this can't be happening. My Louis cannot be dead. Anybody but my Louis.

 

* * *

 

The flat is cold and empty without Louis. With life in black and white and Juliet's mother to talk to, we've both learnt something. The reason why Niall and Juliet have seen colours after they met each other, like Gemma with Ashton and my mum with her new husband and Eleanor with Max, is because the concept of your soulmate. Everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate. For some reason, no one's figured it out before so everyone thinks it just comes with age. It explains why my mum hasn't started seeing them until she met Robin and divorced my dad. They just weren't meant to be. They weren't soulmates.

It makes me realise how unfair it all really is. Love comes slow and it can just be taken away in an instant. It's symbolised in the way we see colours. You don't just magically see every colour when you first see your soulmate. It all comes over a period of time when you remain with your soulmate. Then when they die, all the colour is sucked back out of your life and you're immersed back into the blackness. 

It's been two months since his death. It's been the most bitter February of my life. Our wedding's supposed to be in May, but you can't have a wedding with just one person. The ring on my finger is just a reminder of how unfair life is. I've known with past experiences, but I couldn't ever realise the full extent to it. I could never guess that the world would take away my Louis in the blink of an eye because of slippery roads and a well-placed tree. He swerved off the road and was killed on impact, his chest and skull being immediately crushed to bits.

The casket was closed, but I managed to open it when I was alone with him. I saw the full extent of the damage, even though they made him up to look nice to be buried six feet below. That wasn't my Louis in that deathbed. That was a stranger, and I never want to think about him in that way ever again. He's blue eyes and tanned skin and high-pitched laughter and a pointy-teethed smile. He wasn't that sunken, pale face lying so still. Not at all.

Juliet's mum advised me to visit my old flat to regather old memories to help me move on. But I don't  _want_ to move on. There's no point in living if Louis isn't here anymore. No point at all. But I still head over to my old building. No one's bought out the flat, so it'll be nice to be alone in that empty place, going over the memories of our first night together. Our first kiss, our first time, our first song sung together.

I climb the stairs quickly, going to the familiar floor. I walk down the corridor, stopping in front of my old flat. It's just as I left it. I go to open it, but it's locked. Of course it would be locked. I reach in my shoulder bag, rummaging through my necessities and find a stray paper clip.

Using the sneaky and mischievous skills that Louis taught me, I bend over and tamper with the doorknob until it clicks open. I look around, seeing the corridor is empty, and enter to face my nostalgia. The sight of the empty place causes tears to pool in my eyes. It feels like yesterday it was us sitting on my couch with Louis kissing me to try something for the first time. I walk to my old bedroom, imagining the ottoman below the big window and my big bed in the centre. 

The ceiling fan is that same white. I sigh, reaching into my bag and setting my step stool on the carpet floor. I take a shaky breath, dropping my bag right after I retrieve the most vital item of this entire plan. As I step onto the stool and connect some rope to the ceiling fan, I start humming our song. Once I slip the noose around my neck, I sing the chorus of "Hey There Delilah". 

For a moment, I can hear Louis' high-pitched voice harmonising along with my deep one. Our voices always blended so well together. Everything about us just fit perfectly. I can hear him in the distance, and I know it's time. But the sound of that wonderful voice is almost enough to make me untie this rope and keep living.

Almost.

 

 

 


End file.
